The beverage was a purplish, sour-tasting ferment that produced a nice glow. Hale drank three cups of it before he thought to wonder if it were made from the purple berry with the white worms inside. He wisely refrained from asking, and, after a few more cups, it ceased to worry him at all. As the night went on, the party became more and more boisterous. Everyone had plenty of the purple ferment, and the conversation became more and more interesting as it made less and less sense. It must have been rather early in the morning when the incident occurred that both shocked Hale back into sobriety and gave him a new zest for life. As is usual in parties of that sort, the host somehow managed to underestimate the amount of liquor that would be consumed. The supply ran out, and Yon the Fisher had to send out for more. "La!" he cried as he turned up the last earthenware jug, only to find a bare half-cupful within. "Out of juice! Are we all out? No more?" He gazed around, as though he expected any full jugs to stand up and announce themselves. None did. "Look around!" he bawled. "There must be another." The whole group of thirty-odd men began turning jugs upside down. One of them had a little in it, but the man who turned it had failed to provide a receptacle, and it splashed on the floor. There were no full jugs. "Ferek! You, Ferek!" Yon called loudly. One of the men stood up and came toward him. "Ferek, go get us some more. Wake up Lan the Brewer. Here--take this." He opened a leather bag that hung at the cincture of his robe and spilled out a handful of sparkling, blue-white stones. He selected one and handed it over. "And mind you make it snappy, Ferek; we're all thirsty!" Ferek turned on his heel and fled, but Leland Hale did not watch his departure. Hale was staring at the handful of stones in Yon the Fisher's palm. Diamonds! Perfect, blue-white octahedrons! He knew what they were; the vital tuning crystals for the subspace radio. So _that_ was what the _Morris_ had been carrying! The little crystals that were worth more than all the rest of a subspace radio, including installation. And they were using them as a medium of exchange! Hale mentally rubbed his hands together, and the glitter of promised profit gleamed in his eyes. When Ferek came back with the purple juice, fourteen jugs of it, Hale was ready for the fun to begin. * * * * * He woke up the next morning with a head that felt the way it deserved to feel. He vaguely remembered being courteously escorted back to "the brig" and ceremoniously locked in with the best of good wishes. He'd felt fine then; he didn't now. He sat up, wishing he had his pack back so that he could get a couple of aspirin tablets. Then the noise came to his ears--an excited muttering outside the window. He got to his feet carefully and walked over to the barred opening.